


of once upon a time

by Ruenis



Series: Currently Dreaming [2]
Category: Aldnoah.Zero (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Experimental Style, Fluff, Freeform, Knights of the Royal Family, M/M, Nymphs & Dryads, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 03:00:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10607898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruenis/pseuds/Ruenis
Summary: once upon a time, there was a knight, and he met a nymph.





	

once upon a time, there was a knight.

 

Harklight was from a poor family. a low class family. a family with no visible wealth or land or gains to speak of. a family who had utterly nothing to give and nothing to receive until their son, Harklight, joined the royal family's service and gained the title of 'knight'.

Harklight made an exceptional knight.

amazing.

gifted.

intelligent and certified.

_obedient and loyal._

he was granted the duty of patrolling the forest, the forest where the forest folk lived.

 

once upon a time, there was a knight, and he found a nymph in the forest.

* * *

 

most of the forest folk hide from humans.

run.

flee.

shy away when they get too close.

some nymphs and dryads even turn into trees or flowers or escape to the rivers and ponds.

others, it would seem, lack that choice.

 

once upon a time, Harklight found a nymph seated on a small chair of vines and flowers and branches and leaves.

 

the forest youth is fair, almost _painfully_ fair.

fair hair, fair skin, so pale they look as if they have never seen the light of day before.

 

Harklight figures they must be a dweller of perhaps a flower, or some tree with light, light bark.

 

their breathing is slow, irregularly slow and soft and barely audible over the soft chirping and humming and buzzing of the forest.

their hair hangs over their face, fair and strewn with leaves and flowers.

“.. excuse me?” Harklight calls, bending down somewhat to try and meet the nymph's eyes.

they are sound asleep.

eyes shut, chest barely rising and falling..

the tip of Harklight's sword drags quietly against the grass, drags and mixes in with the soft chirping and humming and buzzing, and the nymph's breathing is still barely audible.

“please don't disturb him,” a voice calls, and Harklight immediately straightens himself, turning to meet a pair of violet eyes belonging to a young girl.

another nymph.

“he's sleeping,” the nymph stresses.

“why?” Harklight questions, and his own voice sounds loud in the forest, loud over the chirping and humming and buzzing.

“that's Slaine's job,” the nymph answers, and she gestures to the fair youth, still sound asleep in their chair made of vines and flowers and branches and leaves. “he sleeps and sleeps, and the forest grows and breathes and lives. and everyone else stays awake.”

“that.. doesn't seem..”

“fair? it isn't.”

* * *

 

“this isn't necessary, you know.”

Harklight lifts his head just enough to meet a pair of familiar violet eyes, belonging to the kindly nymph who has been keeping Slaine company.

though she does not divulge her name, she refers to herself as Slaine's 'sister'.

they look far too different to actually be related.

Harklight is unsure if nymphs can even have siblings.

“it's my duty to patrol the forest everyday, so I may as well make an effort to care for its inhabitants,” Harklight offers, kneeling down before the sleeping nymph.

he has made it his job to clear weeds and stray plants away from Slaine's vicinity, taking care not to touch anything that seems to be growing around his chair.

there are many multicoloured flowers around, and butterflies and bees come to spread pollen around, humming and buzzing quietly in the forest. they visit Slaine, too, visit the flowers strewn in his hair and leave bright yellowish pollen matted on the near-white.

it is pretty.

“Slaine appreciates you, you know,” the nymphian girl murmurs, “when he wakes up, I'm sure he'll want to thank you.”

“he'll wake up?” Harklight questions, raising an eyebrow.

“eventually,” she hums, taking a few steps forward to pull some stray branches from Slaine's hair.

they are white and ashen and pale, just like he is.

Harklight gazes at the sleeping nymph for a few moments more.

 

once upon a time, there was a knight, and a slumbering nymph in the forest, with a sister who took care of him.

* * *

 

Harklight finds himself taking longer and longer breaks in the small grove where Slaine sleeps.

it is quiet.

 

it is relaxing.

 

it is peaceful.

 

and the girl sometimes keeps him company.

 

Harklight is silent, mostly.

he listens to the sounds of the forest, Slaine's breathing, and Slaine sleeps and sleeps and sleeps in his small chair in the grove.

he starts to wonder when Slaine will wake up.

* * *

 

it starts to get cold outside.

Harklight still has his duties of patrolling the forest and keeping vagabonds out and away from the city of Vers, and rather than wearing the standard armour of a knight during the cold times, he is allowed to wear a lighter, warmer uniform made of leather and wool.

the nymphian girl gives him a small charm, imbued with warmth from the fireflies.

he still visits Slaine everyday.

he sits on the snow and talks to him when the girl is not around – she had mentioned that nymphs are effectively plants, and that they enjoy being talked at when rendered in the state Slaine is currently in.

according to her, he can hear just fine.

Harklight tells him of his duties, of the royal family, his own family, his struggles in a world not quite built for fairness..

and Slaine sleeps and sleeps and listens and breathes so, so softly.

 

once upon a time, it starts to snow, and Slaine's grove is turned as fair and white as he is.

* * *

 

Harklight's breath catches when he finds not Slaine sitting upon an ashen chair of vines and flowers and branches and leaves, but a nymph with brown hair, a nymph who appears to be just slightly younger than Slaine is.

he turns around to look about the grove, and finds nothing but his own footsteps in the snow, mushy, slushy footsteps in the snow.

the grass is all gone, though there are quite a few flowers, around, purple and blue and white chrysanthemums with yellow middles that make them stand out amongst the white.

 

“were you expecting me, sir knight?” an unfamiliar voice calls, and Harklight turns back around to find the familiar fair nymph standing behind the one in the chair, resting his hands on their shoulders.

 

“this is Inaho,” Slaine says, and his eyes are as bright as the veridian pools that surround the city, as shiny and reflective as the pool's surface, “we take turns every now and then. I'm sure you're surprised to find him in my stead. he dislikes the cold, you see..”

Slaine applies some pressure to Inaho's shoulders, gentle pressure, and he releases after a few moments and holds up his palms to reveal what looks like a slight burn against his pale, pale skin. “this keeps him warm. so I'm free to wander during the winter and spring.”

Harklight finds himself staring.

“thank you for taking care of me, sir knight,” Slaine says after a moment, stepping away from Inaho, hands behind his back; flowers and leaves are still strewn in his hair, and his bare feet squish the snow beneath him, forming small, small pools of water. “and thank you for telling me your stories. I don't get to hear very much.. the others usually go about their own day, so.. so, thank you,” he says, and he offers the knight a tiny, grateful smile.

in the winter, the humming and buzzing of the forest is gone, replaced instead by quiet birdsong and low, low chatter from the animals that do not sleep.

“say, Harklight?” Slaine calls, and the knight snaps to attention at the use of his name, “would you like to take a walk? I haven't walked around for a few weeks.”

“of course,” Harklight answers immediately, nodding, and his voice sounds a bit too loud still in the quiet forest, too loud and too high.

Slaine beams.

 

 

everything is white, still.

 

white snow.

 

white flowers.

 

white, ashen trees with bare branches and striped bark.

 

Slaine blends in with it all.

 

he leaves puddles of water where he walks, melted, slushy snow in his wake, and Harklight takes care not to slip and fall.

the humming and buzzing of the forest is still gone, and the birds have started to sing a bit softer now that it is evening. instead, the forest is sleeping, and only Slaine's soft, soft dripping footsteps and Harklight's breathing fill the air.

Slaine's breathing is still bare.

“sir knight?”

Harklight glances over toward the blond, who is still looking ahead of them, at the fireflies dancing all about the forest.

they shine and shimmer and glow and their light makes it feel a bit less lonely, with all the other nymphs hidden.

“will you come and see me often?” Slaine asks, and he sounds curious, voice soft and gentle and _curious_.

“of course,” Harklight says again, and he nods a few times, chest warm and light.

lifting his head a bit, Slaine offers the knight another small smile. “thank you.”

* * *

 

once upon a time, there was a forest and knight and a nymph.

 

the forest is white, still.

white, white, white slushy, shimmering snow everywhere; in the tree boughs, the glistening on the flower's petals, and the white, slushy stuff is slowly, slowly sticking to the earth and becoming proper snow.

still, it melts wherever Slaine's feet touch, and he is currently sitting in a pool of clear water beside the brunet.

“.. I have a question.”

“go ahead,” Slaine says patiently.

Harklight's gaze flickers from Slaine's fair, fair face to Inaho, whose breathing is significantly better than Slaine's is, louder. “how long.. will you be awake?”

“just until the end of springtime,” Slaine answers, and he smiles again, a small, sort of sad smile that does not quite meet his bright, bright eyes.

it does not stick, like the snow does.

“sir knight,” Slaine suddenly says, and he shifts a bit, the water splashing and soaking his near-sheer clothing, “you should go back home. it's getting rather late.”

“.. then I'll come and see you again tomorrow,” Harklight says, and the nymph only nods, remaining seated in his pool of clear water.

 

 

he does.

Harklight sees him the next day.

and the day after that.

and the one after that, and again and again, for weeks, then months.

and then, it is March.

* * *

 

Harklight is not quite sure what to say when he finds Slaine sleeping in Inaho's stead.

it is only March.

Slaine still has a few more months.

“were you expecting Slaine?”

the unfamiliar voice is monotone, and when Harklight turns to meet it, he finds the younger, male nymph leaning against a tree, dark, dark eyes devoid of light and the brightness that Slaine has.

“I apologise. something came up, and he had to take my place for today,” the brunet says, and Harklight tries to recall his name –

“Inaho. I've heard about you.”

“.. I see,” Harklight murmurs, gaze shifting back to the slumbering nymph.

Inaho shifts a bit, though his hands are still pressed firmly to the tree's trunk, cheek digging into the bark; he seems hesitant to approach, for whatever reason. “Slaine talks about you. you can have him back tomorrow,” he says, and he says it with a dull, dull edge in his voice.

he is teasing.

“I'll be taking my leave, then. keep Slaine company, knight.”

Harklight decides that this younger nymph is less tolerable than the average person, despite being more formal.

* * *

 

he does 'get' Slaine back.

it is still cool outside, and Harklight realises that their outings do not stray very far from the grove where Inaho now resides.

he wonders if perhaps Inaho did not stray very far, either.

if perhaps they _cannot_ stray very far.

instead of water where Slaine steps, the nymph leaves mud and it sticks to his bare feet.

Harklight has to keep a small distance between them to prevent his heavy boots from falling in and getting stuck. he feels a slight tug in his heart.

* * *

 

it is April.

then it is July.

and soon after that, it is August, and it is time for Slaine to return to his slumber.

“say, sir knight,” Slaine calls, and he gently traces his finger along the curve of his chair, along the chair of vines and flowers and branches and leaves, and it is a bit more colourful now that it is near summertime. the chair and forest is bright and colourful and lively and _awake_ and the fair nymph standing before him is still pale and fair and ashen. “will you still come to see me, once I've fallen back to sleep?”

“of course,” Harklight says, and it feels routine now, to answer in a positive, affirmative way.

it feels kind of familiar.

Slaine smiles a bit as he sits himself down in his chair, and the brightness immediately slips from his eyes, replaced by drowsy, sleepy tiredness. “say, sir knight..” he murmurs, and Harklight kneels down in front of him, meets his eyes just before they shut, “thank you.”

“.. you're welcome, m'lord.”

**Author's Note:**

> experiment 2 feat. non-lyrical (freeform) poetry and extended metaphor


End file.
